


Dying Stars

by wanderaway



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: First attempt at fanfic, M/M, bullshit, super shitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3985102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderaway/pseuds/wanderaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He jumps so he was one with the stars, and chose to believe he was just another dying star. He burned brighter then the rest, but faded the fastest. Someone had once told him that Stars were just explosions in the sky and they never really do die.</p><p>OR</p><p>Luke is too busy fixing Calum to realize he's broken himsef</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dying Stars

It was around Christmas time when everything began to go wrong. Their band had just finished their tour, and had gone out for drinks to celebrate. Calum didn't know how it started. He couldn't exactly remember. He drank until he was overwhelmed with a pure bliss of numbness, feeling more alive than he ever had before. He drank and drank, and drank. After throwing up four times, and a grungy hangover, Calum drank again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. 

His bandmates shrugged it off as ‘tour stress’. After all they were all pretty tired. Sleeping four, five hours a night, maybe six. They didn't put too much thought into it. 

It wasn't until a few weeks later when everything got noticeably fucked up. Calum had started smoking. He infused nicotine into his bloodstream time after time, even when he promised Luke he wouldn't. Night after night, stumbling by like nothing more than a snap of a finger. It was all a blur of late night fucks and cigarette smoke. 

They had an emergency band meeting later that week. It consisted of nothing more than Ashton yelling at Calum on how he was going to wreck his voice. How he was being a selfish fuck, putting the whole band's future at risk. Calum was to drunk off his ass to process the thought. 

“I’m living the fucking dream!” Calum had responded, flinging his hands in the air. Luke had to leave to refrain from bursting into tears. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luke Hemmings was done. He was so fucking done. He couldn't fake one more smile or force one more laugh. Every step he took was another light going off in his brain of how worthless and pathetic he really was. He couldn't eat a single bite without it coming back up again. He found comfort in the cuts on his arms, and thighs. He would fill the shower tub with water, to wash all the filth and dirt off himself. He would bleed out until he could see nothing more than blood and darkness. 

He decided darkness was his only home. The only place he was safe from the demons and voices that lurked in the corners of every room. it was the only place that he was safe from himself. 

His band was falling apart. He wanted nothing more than to scream at all of them so they could see just how much he was hurting. He didn't want Ashton or Michael (not that they would come if he wanted them too. They were too caught up on Calum.) He wanted Calum. Because Calum always knew what to say, and what to do, and how to cuddle him just right, so his neck was bent in the perfect angle, and his legs were tucked into Calum's waist. He wanted Calum. But Calum was gone. 

Luke remembers how sometimes Calum would come banging at his doorstep, until Luke let him in. He remembers how Calum would run his lips across the base of Luke’s neck, to his collarbone, and over his adam's apple. He remembers how he no longer tasted of coffee and mint. And how instead he tasted of nicotine and alcohol. Calum would dig his nail into Luke’s back, and Luke would try not to cry out. Not that Calum would likely notice if he did, he was too high. Luke remembers how Calum's eyes weren't their soft brown, but they were a cold hard red. It wasn’t his Calum. It never was anymore.

Luke remembers how Calum would leave the next morning, with no trace he ever came, if it wasn't for the scratches on Luke’s back. Luke would cry as he dragged himself into the shower, and rid himself of Calum's touch. 

Luke kept thinking that maybe one day his Calum would come back. The Calum who liked cuddles, not fucks. The one who wore comfy sweaters, and ripped band tees. The one who made Luke smile, and feel at home in his arms. If only he knew how much it would take to get that Calum back. 

It was around April when Ashton snapped. Calum had passed out while they were recording a song, and he was so fucking done. 

Ashton had yelled and cried, and Calum had pleaded and begged. 

“I’m nothing without this band!”, he had said, “I promise this will be the last time. I promise.” Luke didn't believe him. He hugged him anyway with the rest of the band. He then sat with Michael, not Calum, because Michael was a quivering mess. This was his best friend after all. 

Calum had come to Luke’s room that night and wept until his eyes were numb, and his voice was raw. Luke had embraced him with open arms, because no matter what Calum did, Luke would always be there. He had bathed Calum, and tucked him in with warm blankets. 

When he woke up, Calum was gone. Luke had cried, even though he knew he shouldn't have expected more, certainly not a thank you. Than he dragged himself to the toilet, and puked until he was coughing up nothing more than blood. 

He was sick and filthy and screwed. He was so fucking screwed.

It became a pattern. Calum promising he was done. Calum coming into Luke’s room to cry and find comfort in late night fucks. Luke throwing up in random toilets, and adding more scars to his wrist. 

Michael hardly ever came out of his room. Luke would go in sometimes to make sure the poor boy was still alive. It was than he realized how big of a difference there was between being alive and actually living. Luke hadn't been living for a while. 

He remembers one day, after he had gone to tuck Calum into his bed, something the older boy was now incapable of doing himself, when Luke had stubbed his toe on the edge of the bed. 

“Are you okay?” Calum had asked. 

Luke knew that Calum didn't care, and would probably be too drunk to even care if Luke told him he wasn't. So he simply nodded his head and cried himself to sleep.

It was the first day of summer when Luke Hemmings decided he was going to kill himself. He had stood on the edge of the roof of the hotel his band was staying at. Calum had passed out on stage and Luke had ran out, before Ashton had a chance to drag him into another ‘Emergency Band Meeting”. His arms were bleeding out, and his phone was blasting out the A Team. It was his and Calum’s song. 

Luke remembers that. 

It was the last step he took, when his shoes jutted over the edge. He realized he was just broken beyond repairment. That you couldn't put him back together, not even if you tried. He was a bunch of puzzle pieces that didn't fit. 

His lip was bleeding from biting on it so much. His eyes were covered with black circles, and his skin was ghostly pale. He was skinny to the point his rib cage almost sticked out. He wondered how his band mates never noticed. 

Maybe they just didn't care. 

One of Luke’s cuts dripped to the ground. He didn't do anything about it. Its not that he didn't care. He just didn't care enough. 

Maybe thats how his Calum had felt.

Maybe Calum did care about Luke and the band, just not enough,

Luke let himself fall, with a smile. A real one this time. He jump so he was one with the stars, and chose to believe he was just another dying star. He burned brighter then the rest, but faded the fastest. Someone had once told him that Stars were just explosions in the sky and they never really do die.

Luke Hemmings was just an explosion. 

Now it was his time to burn. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Calum saw his lifeless body. He didn't see much recently. Everything was a blur, but he saw Luke’s lifeless body. He saw the looks on Michael and Ashtons faces, and the sound of their sobs. He felt hot silent tears drip down his face as he saw the body, feeling more sober than he had felt in a long time. 

He saw the scars on his arms, the makeup the funeral home had put on failed to cover them. He saw the ghost smile on Luke’s lips and the black circles under his eyes. 

Calum would give anything to see Luke’s bright blue eyes one more time. He would do anything to hold him in his fucking arms and ask him just what the fuck was he doing.

Calum cried. He cried more then he had ever cried because he loved a boy who fucking destroyed himself.

Calum had gone up to the casket, with no tears left to cry. He had let out a humourless laugh and muttered, “jesus luke. What have you done?”

How could they be so clueless? How could he be so selfish? 

Liz had given him Luke’s phone, which he had held in his hands as he jumped. The screen was cracked but Calum could make out the writing of A Team. 

That was their song. That was their fucking song. 

Calum had quit smoking. He had gone sober and felt as if he lost all his purpose in life. He was sick and didn't know anything anymore.

He focused on keeping Michael and Ashton okay. That was the least he could do. The band was done. It wasn't the same without luke. Nothing was the same without Luke.

Exactly a year after Luke’s death Calum wrote him a letter. Songs were too personal to him so he wrote a letter with with no address. 

Dear Luke,

Do you know what my biggest fear of this whole thing is?

My biggest fear isn’t, well wasn’t, losing you. It was not the bearing thought that one day, I would have to wake up without you or long to hear your voice, but not be able to. 

My biggest fear is that, one day, several years from now you will just be that boy I used to know. Several years from now, I will tell the story about how, several years ago, a boy I knew and loved decided to take his own life. "He was my world. For a while I saw his face everywhere I went. His eyes were in the deep vast blue of the rivers, and his lanky frame in the shadows of a tree. I saw him in the little broken twigs, and puddles of mud. He was in the strange beauty of the crippled statues, whom most people find useless or unnecessary, but not him. Not him, because he always managed to find beauty in the places where it didn’t seem to exist. He never wanted to be ordinary. He wanted to be loud, like the people you only hear about in books or movies."

My biggest fear is that, one day, several years from now, I will be sitting in my car, with the passenger seat pushed all the way back, just how you always had liked it. I will be sitting in my car, and the radio will play a faint tune. A faint tune, of a lousy and stupid rhythm, a lousy and stupid rhythm that once felt as if it was made for me and you. My biggest fear is that I won’t be able to hum to the music without bursting into tears, pulling over, and crying until my eyes are raw and numb, and my lungs can no longer breathe, or maybe it's the other way around. 

Maybe, my biggest fear is that I will be able to hum to the music without bursting into tears, because maybe I will forget that this was our song. 

Several years from now, I might remember how much I feared pain. How I thought maybe the pain would go away, if I acted like it did. I might remember how I spent endless nights sobbing into my pillow, until I ran out of tears, and my voice was hoarse and my lip was bleeding. I might remember how it felt to walk amongst the lonely lovers, on the dark streets, with lost souls, and empty eyes.

Several years from now, maybe I will remember how it felt that night. How it felt to find your body, and to touch your hand, but not look directly into your eyes, in fear of freezing myself out, in the coolness of your pale blue eyes. 

Maybe I will remember how I heard your laugh at every corner, and saw you smile at every side. 

Maybe I will remember. Or perhaps, maybe I will just forget. Maybe you will just be a pile of memories held together by a thin string, until you fade away into nothing but a dying star. Until you fade from my everything into just some boy I used to know. 

Perhaps that's my biggest fear. 

Love always, Calum  
(if only I wasn't a screw up eh?

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS SO SHITTY IM SORRY
> 
> i will probably redo this when i actually learn to write cause i like the idea i dont know. 
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS THANKS BYE


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